Page 63 of Savored Sins
She already called my brother? I feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under me. I know it’s my own fault, but realizing that all these decisions are being made for me, that I’m being passed around like somebody’s unwanted kid in a custody battle, feels like shit.
“Look,” I say, running a hand through my messed-up hair. “I know you’re pissed—and with good reason—but I’m not a child. You didn’t have to call Will. I can take care of myself.”
Autumn tilts her head, her gaze scrutinizing. “Can you, though? I mean, maybe you shouldn’t act like a child, and you won’t get treated like one.”
And that’s when a switch flips inside me. It’s like a gate descending outside a castle, a suit of armor clanking into place. I withdraw completely, sinking back into myself so only the impish, unbothered mask I’ve spent so long wearing remains.
“Got it,” I say, leaning a forearm against the doorframe. A slow, lazy smile creeps across my face. Autumn just narrows her eyes. “I’ll have my stuff out by tonight, and you’ll never have to see me again. No biggie.”
I give her a little nod, then pull the door shut. I know she’s still standing there, probably staring blankly at the other side of the door, but I don’t care. I barely make it across the cabin and back onto the bed before the mask dissolves, every ounce of ego I just drew on to make it out of that exchange intact completely disintegrating.
Tomorrow will come sooner rather than later. I know I should pack my shit. But right now, I just can’t. I can’t move, can’t think. All I can do now—and it’s as goddamn shocking as it is natural—is lie on the bed and cry.
I haven’t cried for fucking years. But I cry for Autumn, and I cry for myself. Because I fuckedeverythingup—for her, for us—and I don’t think there’s any coming back from it.
thirty-one
AUTUMN
Autumn: You around? I need you.
Lydia: 100%. Where are you?
Autumn: Meet me at the shore. Our usual spot.
Lydia: On my way!
I’m already at the shore, perched on a rock with my toes in the sand, when I see Lydia coming down the path. She’s got a cooler and a package of Oreos tucked under one arm, and although I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, I can tell by the hold of her mouth that she’s worried. And I can’t say I blame her—I’m usually the one to pullherout of a spiral, not the other way around. From the very fact that I asked her to meet, Lydia can tell it’s bad.
“Hey,” Lydia says, setting the cooler and cookies down on the rock next to me. She wraps her delicate arms around me andgives me a squeeze. “I brought wine. Probably not as good as the stuff in your wine cellar, but you sounded like you could use it.”
I make a face at the wine cellar comment. The stuff down there is all thanks to Patrick, but I don’t give two shits. I’m no wine snob, and Lydia knows it. “Whatever you’ve got will be perfect, babe.”
Lydia pulls a half empty sleeve of Solo cups out of the cooler, along with a screw-top bottle of rosé. She pours us each a cup and shoves the cooler behind us, tearing into the Oreos.
“Okay. Talk to me,” Lydia says. She takes a sip of wine and pulls her legs up onto the rock so she’s cross-legged. “And I promise—I will withhold judgment. I’m just here to listen.”
The corner of my mouth quirks up in a grateful half-smile. This is exactly why I called Lydia. Although she’s got some snark to her and can bust out an attitude when she needs it, she’s nowhere near as full ofI told you soenergy as Trey. Plus, sheknowsZeke. He may be her fiancé’s little brother, but because of that she’s seen the good sides of him and can be a bit more impartial. I think.
I chew my lip, swirling my wine before taking a large gulp. I’m surprised at how shaky my voice is, now that I’m about to come clean. “Alright, so. You know how I needed the model for my menswear pieces? And how Zeke wanted to film his pilot episode for that contest thing at my house?”
Lydia nods, tilting her head. “Mmhm. You made a deal of sorts. I’ve got all that.”
“Right. Well…” God. I’m stalling. I don’t want to tell her, but I do. I’m not even sure what I want from Lydia, except for her to listen, so I need to get to it. I take a deep breath, and then launch in. “I slept with Zeke.”
Lydia looks like she’s trying not to smile, but she only sips her wine. “Naturally. Go on.”
Well,that’snot the reaction I was expecting. I know as my best friend I should give Lydia more credit, but Ireallythought she’d groan—or at least give me a little side eye. But this...? She just looks amused.
“Wait. Naturally?”
Lydia shrugs, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “I mean, no offense, but something tells me you’re not the first girl to admit to that.”
“Yeah, well, I might be the first thirty-something.”
“Also doubtful,” Lydia says. “But whatever—that’s beside the point. You slept with him. Then what?”
A weird wave of jealousy rises inside me at the thought of Zeke sleeping with anyone else my age. I have no idea why, or how it’s any different from the girls his age he’s slept with, but it brings out something primal in me. Possessive. But I push it down and continue.
